Touch Me
by Race122VE
Summary: How Santana and Brittany ended up creepin on Emma and Will and what happened after. One shot.


**Title:** Touch Me  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** How Santana and Brittany ended up creepin on Emma and Will and what happened after.  
**Word Count:** Over 4500.  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.**  
**

Santana zips up the top of her uniform and, looking in her locker mirror, tightens her pony to perfection. She grabs her lip gloss from inside and applies another coat, smacking her lips together in the mirror and giving herself a smirk. She shoved the remaining items she needed into her Cheerios duffle bag hastily and without care before shutting her locker and looking down towards the other end where Brittany was finishing changing.

"You almost done?" she asks as she slings the bag over her shoulder.

Brittany looks back after pulling her top over and reaching around to the side, fumbling for the zipper. "Yeah," she answers, but she's distracted now that she can't get a good a good grasp on the tiny piece of metal. "Just…in a minute…"

A sweet smile spreads across her face unconsciously as she sets her duffel down on the bench and strides over to her friend. "Turn left," she instructs on her way.

When Brittany turns right, Santana fights the eye roll but it occurs anyway as she patiently corrects the blonde, "Other way, B."

Brittany turns all the way around and the smile creeps back up on Santana's face as she straightens out the top before pulling the zipper down, securing her uniform perfectly in place. "There," she comments, spinning Brittany by the shoulders so they're facing each other and Santana can give her appearance a once over. "Just right."

"Why do we have to wear these even after practice?" Brittany asks when Santana turns to get her bag. "Or even after school? I mean, we're pretty much the last ones here."

"It's what Coach wants. And Coach gets what she wants," Santana replies robotically. "It's all about the image and stuff."

It's a frequent conversation between the two that started after they joined Glee Club and started wearing outfits that weren't Cheerios uniforms or their slutty weekend party getups. Brittany became obsessed with the idea of wearing different things, wearing her hair down, or half up, or curled a little bit. Really, wearing anything that wasn't the damn uniform and the damn pony tail.

It was Santana's job to remind Brittany what the uniform stands for. Or, rather, what Coach wanted the uniform to stand for.

And what she wanted the girls wearing the uniform to stand for.

The thought caused Santana to adjust her top that still fit too snuggly against her new, enhanced chest. She took in a deep breath, straightening her back and running her palms down her sides to smooth out the uniform as she held back a small wince at the tightness.

Santana does not have regrets. Regrets are for losers and fakes who can't own up to their own shit. That is not Santana Lopez.

But, God, does she miss being on top, and does she ever hate having to cater to Sue Sylvester. Someone she once idolized but now isn't so sure about.

Fucking Glee Club, opening her eyes and showing her there's more important things than image and power. Those things are still damn important though, but she can't deny how much fun she has. She hates how much she loves it, how all these things in her life are so backwards, and how she doesn't know another way to get them straightened without playing the part she's been cast.

It could have been a few seconds or long minutes before Brittany's voice pierced through her wandering thoughts. "You know," she says. "I watched Coach after you nailed that landing. I think there was an impressed face under her usual scowl."

Brittany offers a smile with her observation and while she should feel better, feel comforted, Santana feels like shit.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Brittany wasn't supposed to make her feel better after the last couple of weeks where she freaked out at Brittany and then hastily pasted their friendship together by actually manipulating the whole situation in the end. It was as if nothing had changed, really.

Except they haven't had sex since.

In fact, Santana hasn't found anyone to climb on top of since she saw Brittany wheeling Artie down the hall and turning to glare and deny her any future access.

Now let's get something straight, Santana hates the idea of placing any kind of negative feelings on such a wonderful place like BreadstiX, but if that wasn't the fucking prize for the bullshit duets competition, Santana would have gladly picked Brittany as her partner and talked her friend into a more appropriate song that didn't scream gay to the whole school.

Fucking BreadstiX. Why is it _so_ fucking good?

Then, after Artie dumped Brittany (and not just dumped her, he basically shit all over her, kicked her down a flight of stairs, and then spit on her body) the blonde showed up at her house with dried tear tracks down her eyes talking about _Lady and the Tramp_ and how she didn't want to be mad at Santana anymore.

Santana couldn't help herself. She couldn't help but to drag Brittany into her house, take her up to her room to watch happier Disney movies and play with Brittany's hair and hold her in her arms till she fell asleep, all the while knowing that she caused this.

Mr. Schuester's attempts to try to get into Ms. Pillsbury's pants by putting on Rocky Horror was a helpful and unexpected distraction.

Things were back on track, but every time she found herself alone with Brittany, like now, she found herself weighed down by the guilt, the knowledge, the truth. That she caused Brittany's pain and now Brittany was trying to make her feel better.

It's fucked up and now it's getting harder and harder to ignore.

"You'll be back on top someday, you know," Brittany continues on, oblivious to Santana's inner turmoil. "Between you and me, I don't think Quinn's cut out for it."

That's enough to snap Santana out of her thoughts. "Really?"

Brittany nods. "Totally," Brittany replies. "Yeah, I mean I think she thinks she needs it this year so everyone can stop talking about how she was 'pregnant' last year. " Santana can't help but chuckle at the way the blonde uses air quotes when saying the word pregnant.

After Quinn had her baby, they went right back to Regionals and had their hopes crushed, but the only people that saw the baby were Quinn, Puck, and Mercedes (obviously, what with being in the room _during_ the birth), but Brittany had somehow decided in her head that since she didn't see the baby there wasn't one to begin with.

Santana's usually good at taking in Brittany's crazy talk, processing it, and finding a logical, simple way of correcting it, but Brittany was entirely convinced that she was right on this subject so Santana let it slide.

"You can just see it in her eyes. She'd different now and she's not really happy about it," Brittany goes on. "Like Finn when I go over the choreography for the first time. It's like…he knows he has to do it, but he doesn't really want to cause he's going to look like an idiot."

"Yeah," Santana sighs. "I just thought…I don't know."

"What?" Brittany prompts.

"It's been a little while now," she replies. "I've done everything Coach has asked me to do. I just thought she'd move me up a little but, so far, still at the bottom."

"You'll get there," Brittany assures her with complete confidence.

They're standing, again, at opposite ends of the row of lockers, bags slung over their shoulders and nothing left to say. Their eyes are locked and Santana can't help the warmth that spreads through her body, instantly comforted by Brittany's words and lingering gaze. Awkwardness creeps back up on Santana and she shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet, skimming her mind trying to find something to say instead of just staring at her friend.

The worst part of it all is that she doesn't know if Brittany's feeling the weirdness. Santana _thinks_ she does, but her ability to read the blonde better than anybody else has been thrown off by the situation. It's frustrating and she doesn't feel like herself anymore, which then gets scary because that means she's something completely different without Brittany.

Before she can have a mental breakdown, Brittany's striding forward and hooking her pinky with Santana's.

"Come on," she says, tugging Santana. "I want ice cream."

Santana laughs, stomping down her doubts and feelings once more and taking Brittany's approach. Whether that approach is denial or just general oblivion, she's still not sure, but Santana misses how easy it usually is with her best friend and decides that's the best option right now regardless.

"We're just starting a new cleanse," she reminds Brittany as they exit the locker room and head across the quad. "Pretty sure ice cream is a no."

"Coach won't find out. It's not like she can do, like, a drug test or something to find out if we got some ice cream," Brittany argues, stopping suddenly right at a window looking into one of the classrooms, her face drained of happiness and scrunching up in confusion and worry. "Oh no…she can't can she?"

Before Santana can tell Brittany how ridiculous that is, she notices movement in the classroom. Mr. Schuester is pushing his desks back and Ms. Pillsbury is entering the room.

Santana reacts, dropping down to the ground, out of sight, and pulling Brittany with her. "What?" Brittany asks, lowering her voice to a whisper when Santana brings her finger up to her mouth. "Did Coach hear me talking about ice cream?"

"Schue and the germaphobe are in there," Santana tells her. "You heard that he's going to be playing Rocky instead of Sam, right?"

The blank stare she received was enough to tell her that she has to give further explanation. "Mr. Schue called Sam fat or something and now he's going to play the creature," Santana goes on. "Really, he just wants to show off his package for Ms. P."

Brittany nods along, and Santana takes that as sign that she understands so she turns her ear towards the window, catching pieces of what they're talking about when Brittany's brow furrows in thought. "Wait," she whispers, tapping Santana's shoulder. "What's inside?"

Santana arches an eyebrow and motions towards the classroom. "Mr. Schue and Ms. P."

"No," Brittany shakes her head. "What's inside the package?"

"What?"

"What's inside the package?" Brittany repeats before elaborating. "I mean, if he got something for Ms. Pillsbury, why is he just showing her the package and not what's inside? She should be interested in what's inside the package…"

Santana blows out a deep, long breath, puffing out her cheeks and patting Brittany affectionately on the knee. "No, his _package_, B," she clarifies, bringing her hand to circle over her crotch. "You know, his…"

The light bulb clicks on over Brittany's head as she smiles with realization.

It gets hard sometimes to bite back a bitchy comment about Brittany's dimness, but after _years_ of helping the blonde reach the correct train of thought as quickly as she could, Santana became kind of numb to it. Except for rare occasions like this. Even during those times, it's second nature to let the insults slide out of her head and let the sense of protection and guidance settle in.

Another thing that helps is that smile. It makes Santana feel proud or something when Brittany _finally_ understands, finally gets it, and Santana is getting lost in that smile at this very moment.

Until it shifts into a whole other different smile she knows extremely well.

"I wonder what they're doing in there…" Brittany whispers, looking away from Santana for the first time and up towards the window.

Santana sees the movement right away and grabs Brittany's arm before she can peer into the window. "Brittany," she hisses. "No…they'll see."

Brittany's bottom lip juts out adorably and Santana tries to stay firm. "No."

"Come on," Brittany whines. "Just a little peek."

It could be the guilt, the _need_ Santana now has to give Brittany what she wants, or just her own general curiosity, but she nods once. "Really quick though," she says when Brittany's face explodes with excitement. "And we have to be careful. We shouldn't be here right now."

The blonde is bobbing her head up and down, but her whole body is humming with anticipation and Santana can't stop the eyes roll as she grabs on to Brittany's arm and shifts so that she's crouching against the wall. Brittany matches her movements, but can't stop bouncing as Santana mouths 'One…two…three…'

Together, and slowly, they peer over the window to find Will and Emma still talking about the show and trying to rehearse.

"OK, so…let's just imagine we're all alone in Frank-N-Furter's laboratory…" he tells Emma, setting up the scene and walking over to the boom box over on one of the shelves and hitting the play button.

The music starts and Santana glances sideways at Brittany, still keeping an eye on their teachers, and smirks when she sees that the blonde recognizes the music and the scene they're 'rehearsing.' It was reworked in the show a little so they were just singing backup as opposed to what Santana knew their characters were _really_ doing in the movie.

Just one of the many ridiculous rewrites that completely changed Rocky Horror, but whatever.

Ms. Pillsbury sings about only ever kissing, and Santana smirks because she's been able to smell Ms. P's virginity even before she got into high school and the irony of the situation is just too good. Brittany turns her full attention back to Santana at this, asking in all seriousness and yet keeping in time with the song, "You mean she…?"

"Uh-huh," Santana confirms as they both turn their attention back to the car crash that is Will Schuester and Emma Pillsbury, so obviously into each other yet so unable to not be idiots and realize it's probably not going to work.

All thoughts kind of get shoved to the side, however, because Brittany's hand is resting on Santana's thigh and the grip is tightening as Emma stands in front of Will and runs a hand down the his front. She hates to admit it, but the show they're getting now is good.

Like, _really_ good.

But not good enough for them to get into trouble. So, when Emma steps away, Will is looking straight ahead like a dope and Santana has to drag Brittany down and out of sight. Brittany pouts back at her and goes to look back up and Santana tightens her grip. "B, we shouldn't-"

"But it's so hot," Brittany whispers, hand still very much attached to Santana's thigh. "I mean, it's weird, but _hot_."

Still unable to say no to Brittany, especially when she's got that sexy glint in her eyes, they both peer over the edge just in time to watch Emma slowly unbuttoning her sweater and tousling her hair. She's not sure what it is that is so arousing about what's going on in front of them and soon decides that it's not about the teachers, it's about Brittany and her hand that is sliding slowly up Santana's leg as they both chant together, "More, more, more."

The two of them keep rehearsing, keep going on, completely oblivious to Santana and Brittany watching every twist, every touch, and every long look. They're being completely obvious too. When Brittany's hand stops moving upwards and starts sliding inwards Santana has to smack her hand away even though she pretty sure there's nothing in the world that she wants more than for Brittany to keep her hand moving.

Santana goes to give Brittany a pointed look (something that silently says we're creeping on our teachers and right now is probably not the best time to do the thing we've been, subconsciously or not, avoiding for the past couple of weeks) but the girl is all smiles and shimmies her shoulders a little. The corners of her lips turn upwards and all she can think about is leaning forward and making both of their smiles disappear.

But then things get interesting.

They drop down again when Emma turns Will to face the window and saunters behind him. He's not really paying attention though when Emma's fingers curl around the collar of his shirt and tear the front open.

Brittany's pouting again, wanting to catch another glimpse and Santana doesn't even have it in her anymore to protest. They bother rest their hands on the window sill and pull themselves up as Emma rids Will of his shirt.

"Down, down, down."

Since Brittany's hand isn't anywhere near her thigh anymore, Santana finally can focus on how ridiculous this whole situation. It's fun, and Brittany's smiling and things are feeling back to normal between them, but when Ms. Pillsbury tugs Mr. Schue by his tie and forces him down into the chair Santana giggles and releases a fake, "Oh."

Brittany laughs with her and copies her, but only louder, "OH!"

She should be paying attention, trying not to get caught peeping and being in school after they should be gone, but she's having a good time with Brittany, laughing and being poked and hugging her friend close.

Then Brittany's eyes go wide and she ducks out of sight, Santana following closely behind. Before she has time to think, Brittany's nodding towards the closest door that takes them out of the quad and back into the school. Brittany grabs her duffel and scoots over, standing when she's clear from the window, skipping over and laughing as she bursts through. Santana keeps right on her feet and catches Brittany's pinky once she's through the door and turns back to look at Santana.

They're singing, skipping, dancing, twirling, and smiling and Santana can't remember the last time she's felt like this with Brittany. The blonde's got her arm around her shoulders, leading them forward as they swing their bags back and forth. She tugs a little to the left and Santana is expecting to be led down another hall, instead she finds herself being pulled past Brittany and slammed into a row of lockers.

The clang echoes throughout the dark, empty hallway. Santana winces against the dull pain that throbs where she hit the metal and opens her mouth to say…something. She can't remember what it is because Brittany tosses her bag aside and her hands come up to cup her face, thumbs stroking against her cheek bones and causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

Santana can't help but bite her lip when Brittany's eyes darken and flicker down to focus on her lips. Her bag slips from her fingers and she knows she should be doing something. Like bring her hands up, rest them on Brittany's hips, draw the blonde closer, eliminate all space between them, but they hang uselessly at her sides. She tenses up, freezes, and suddenly can't stop thinking about the horrible things she did to her best friend.

Brittany doesn't seem to notice, doesn't seem to care, because her head is dipping down and her lips are getting closer and their breath is mingling together. It's what she's wanted since the night they started making out on Brittany's bed, it's what she's been scared she'd never get back when Brittany started dating Artie, and it's something that she can't let herself continue without clearing the air between them.

"Brittany…"

It's barely audible and it only slows Brittany, who doesn't hear the anguish behind her name. She nudges her nose against Santana's playfully as blue eyes travel up to meet her own. Santana averts her gaze immediately, and Brittany halts. "Santana…?"

"I'm the reason Artie broke up with you."

The way she just blurts it was not the plan. The plan was to just keep pushing it down and eventually forget about it, but she can't live with that and she can't so this with Brittany under the guise of something fake and not genuine.

But when Brittany pulls back, yanks her hands away, Santana wants to take it all back. She takes it as a good sign when Brittany doesn't completely step back and rushes on before she can say anything.

"I didn't know how upset I was about everything until you started dating him," she says. "I didn't realize how shitty I made you feel and how much I hated you being mad at me and how much I missed you."

She's looking at the floor and still can't chance a glance up to Brittany to see how she's taking this in. "I'm a bitch and I don't regret anything I do…I own it. I don't even regret what I did cause Artie doesn't deserve you," she states, basically thinking out loud and not holding back. "But I regret acting like you didn't matter to me. You're probably the _only_ thing that matters to me.

"So…whatever."

Time ticks by agonizingly slow, and she's still unable to look back up at Brittany as she waits for any kind of response. All she can do is wallow in her confession and hope she didn't just push away her best friend with her brutal honesty.

Brittany's foot comes into her line of vision, reaching out and kicking at Santana's shoe. She looks up, prepared for the worst, but Brittany's just shaking her head with pursed lips as she brings her hands up to rest on her hips.

"You're a dummy."

It was probably the last thing she expected to hear and her head jerks back on her neck. "I'm a dummy?" she echoes.

"Dummy," Brittany confirms with a nod. "Cause I already knew all that stuff."

"You…knew?"

"Well, I didn't know that you talked to Artie," Brittany clarifies. "But I know that you were upset and jealous and mad and missed me cause I was all those things too. You're the only thing that matters to me too. Well…except for ducks, and my little sister, and ice cream, and my cat-"

"I get it, B," she cuts Brittany off. "I'm just…you got your feelings hurt and…I'm…"

"I know," Brittany assures her. "I don't want you to say sorry I just…I want us to be us again."

She steps forward, closer than she was before, as she says it, and she takes Santana's breath away for a second time. She wants to say something else, feels like she should, like she can't trust that it's OK, but Brittany doesn't give her the chance.

Their lips crash together and Santana lets out an embarrassingly loud groan against Brittany's mouth. She feels the blonde smile and move her hands back up to her face, sliding along her jaw and coming to rest at the base of her head, nails scraping blissfully through her hair.

There's still some hesitance on Santana's part, but she lets it go when Brittany's tongue traces her lips, asking for entrance. Santana brings her hands up, circling Brittany's waist and pulling their bodies close together when she opens her mouth and meets Brittany's tongue with her own.

Santana's perfectly content to just stand there, receiving Brittany's hot, open, wet kisses and reconnecting with her friend after not getting to do this for weeks. _Weeks_. If she thought she missed it before, now she was certain she never wanted to experience it ever again.

Thankfully she doesn't get just this, just the kissing. She knows she's getting more when Brittany breaks away, cheeks flush and gasping for air, to lock their eyes. Her hand moves from behind, running down Santana's neck, in between her breasts, and all the way down between their bodies as her fingers slip under her top and trace along the hem of her skirt.

Brittany's fingers grasp the zipper of her Cheerio's top firmly and she slides it up slowly (and, ironically, with ease considering she had so much trouble with the zipper earlier) before sliding her hand in and flattening her palm against Santana's ribs. Her mouth drops open at the sudden contact and Brittany takes advantage, lunging forward again as her hand moves upwards to palm Santana's breast.

Her own hands slip under Brittany's shirt, scratching her nails across her back causing Brittany to nip at Santana's lip in retaliation. She chuckles at that action and Brittany pulls her mouth away again only to start kissing down to Santana's neck, biting and licking sensitive spots along the way that tears breathy moans from Santana's lips.

Brittany's hand moves from Santana's chest down to her skirt, going in from underneath and running her fingers along the insides of her thighs. She feels Brittany smile against her neck when she cups Santana and feels the heat soaking through. "You really did miss me."

"You have no idea," she replies, more serious than she intended and grabbing Brittany's attention. She doesn't _stop_ exactly, but she brings their faces together, inches apart, and watches Santana as she moves aside her panties and runs her fingers along her slit.

Santana licks her lips and closes her eyes against what Brittany's doing, praying to whatever's out there not to let it end so soon. It's difficult, though, when Brittany's other hand moves around to Santana's back. She shifts their bodies, prepared to keep Santana upright for when she enters her. Santana shifts as well, bringing her arms up to circle around Brittany's neck and pick at the small hairs there.

"Hey," she hears Brittany whisper. "Open your eyes."

She obeys, looking directly into the _bluest_ eyes she knows she will ever see, and moans when Brittany slides two fingers in deep. Her legs shake and Brittany tightens her hold, bringing their chests flush against each other and brushing her lips over Santana's.

They remain that way for a few seconds before Santana nods her head once and then Brittany pulls her fingers out before slowly pushing back in.

"Fuck," she groans when Brittany develops a steady rhythm. She grinds her hips down, forcing her fingers in deeper and leans forward to press her mouth against the blonde's. Brittany's tongue strokes the inside of her mouth and her thumb finds its way to her clit, circling and pressing down as she thrust faster and harder.

It's not very long before she's pulling her mouth away from Brittany's and crying out as her orgasm ripples throughout her entire body. Waves of pleasure keep crashing down thanks to Brittany still thrusting inside her and flicking against her clit and scraping her teeth along her neck. She's not sure how Brittany manages, but she pulls her closer, still stroking her fingers and keeping her upright as she buries her face into Santana's neck.

Through the post sex haze, Santana thinks she hears Brittany say 'I miss you' but she's not sure if that's what she actually said or just what Santana wanted to hear as opposed to what Brittany might have really muttered.

Regardless, she tightens her grip as well, hugging Brittany close and taking in the moment. Her body shakes when Brittany pulls out and leans back to meet Santana's lips, dropping lazy kisses on them as Santana regains the ability to stand.

"Let's get out of here," Brittany mumbles against Santana's lips. "I want ice cream."

Santana's eyebrows shoot up. "What about…you…?"

Brittany pulls herself away completely and reaches down for her bag, waving Santana off. "We'll do that later," she says, holding out her pinky for Santana. "Now? Ice cream."

She's not sure why she's so shocked by this, Brittany was always patient and putting other's needs before her own. Santana supposes, in a way, that maybe all Brittany really does want right now is to go get some ice cream. Brittany gave Santana what she wanted; her best friend back and for things to go back to normal even with everything out in the open, and Santana feels more than happy to give Brittany what she wants.

She grabs her bag from off the ground, slinging it over her shoulder, and reaching out, avoiding Brittany's pinky and, instead, tangling their fingers together. The smile that spreads across Brittany's face shifts something inside Santana.

Right there, walking hand and hand with Brittany through the empty halls, Santana promises herself to try to never take her best friend for granted again.


End file.
